


tacoma

by orbiting_saturn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_saturn/pseuds/orbiting_saturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hates Tacoma. Castiel can offer a brief escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tacoma

Tacoma is a dreary, desultory place with a smell on the air that's like death. It bleeds into the skin of its people, hollows out the eyes and bleaches out happiness. Misty rain permeates the air, clings to the clothes and leaves dew like tears on lowered lashes. Many places in the Pacific Northwest are similar, but none have that broken slowness of Tacoma. It's, perhaps, the perfect place to start a Satanic cult. The sulfur stench and twisted grayness hangs heavy, like living in demon smoke, building a home in Purgatory. After this hunt is over, Sam swears he'll never come back. Never.

Leaning against the side of the Impala, droplets of rain seep into the backs of his jeans. Since he's already damp, permanently damp since crossing state lines, Sam doesn't see that adding just a shade more moisture is going to cause him any extra discomfort. Arms folded across his broad chest in a sad attempt to protect from the cloying chill, he stands in the Texaco parking lot breathing the acrid scent of gasoline and waiting for Dean to come out with coffee. The anticipation of the hot, sharp coffee on his tongue is about the only thing keeping him from kicking shit.

With a put-upon sigh, he twists his head to stare off wistfully at the gentle rise of Mount Rainier in the distance. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine the cool, sharp air, the clean evergreen scent and rain-melted snow.

The jump of his vibrating cell phone snaps his eyes back open and the bleak, dirty street once again assaults him. Cars rush by, splashing mists in their wake. He digs his numb fingers into his pocket, pulls it out and leans down to check the display. Flipping it open, he pushes it under his frizzy hair against the chilled shell of his ear. "Hey, Cas," he greets.

"Where are you?" Cas' rumbly voice asks over the line, distant and tinny.

Sam casts another despairing glance at his surroundings. "In Hell," he mutters back.

He's met with a moment of silence on the other end of the line. And then, "I assume you are speaking metaphorically. I'm quite certain that Hell does not have cell phone reception."

A surprised chuff of amusement rises up his throat. "Holy shit, Cas. Did you just make a joke?"

Another moment of silence and Sam imagines he can hear crickets chirping somewhere off in the distance. "Tacoma, Cas. A Texaco station at Bridgeport and-" he cranes his neck to make out the street sign. "40th."

The line goes dead and before Sam can even stow away his cell, the rumpled angel is standing in front of him. For a moment Sam worries that some of the people around them will notice his sudden arrival out of thin air, but every person has that blank, tunnel vision look in their eyes as they fill up their tanks.

When he looks back at Cas, he can see steam rising up around him, wispy strands of cold hitting heat. "Where'd you come from, Cas?" he asks curiously.

"Miami, Florida," Cas answers distractedly. "Where is Dean?"

"You were looking for God in Miami?" Sam asks, but then he's suddenly distracted himself.

Cas had appeared right in his personal bubble, a bad habit that he seems disinterested in breaking. Some of that heat he seems to be emanating is pushing itself against Sam. It leeches into Sam's shirt, giving it that feeling that laundry tumbled in a weak dryer gets; warm but still moist.

Cas is answering him, but the words don't quite compute as Sam's chilled nipples suddenly rise and harden. The smells of bleached white sand and kudzu and pulled-pork sandwiches fill his nostrils and Sam is tilting forward to breathe it in.

He reaches out mindlessly, his hands sliding under a trench coat that is really more appropriate for this weather than the humid heaviness of Southern Florida. Grasping tight into the scratchy poly-blend of a cheap blazer, Sam tugs and Cas is suddenly pressed into him, exuding heat and the dirty-fresh scents still clinging to him.

"This is an uncommon greeting," Cas observes, standing stiff and awkward in Sam's grip. But he doesn't pull away and his breath is a hot trickle over Sam's neck. He shivers and presses closer to the warmth, soaks it up and rudely ignores the slight hint of discomfort in the angel's tone.

In all the time Sam's known Cas, the angel has never felt like such a little slice of Heaven as he does right now, creeping with heat. His head sags on his neck and he noses into the messy, black hair along Castiel's temple. It's damp now, already picking up the atmosphere of his new surroundings, but he burrows deeper and smells sweat and the Gulf breeze on his scalp.

Hands sliding across the ridges of Castiel's shoulder blades, Sam pulls him in closer, lets all that warmth crawl against him and sighs. There's a stilted pat of a hand on his back and Cas speaks close to his ear. "I'm very happy to see you too, Sam."

He doesn't sound happy, he sounds a little bit freaked out, and it occurs to Sam just how weird this must seem. Sudden, intense embarrassment flushes Sam's cheeks and he forces himself to pull back, face still lingering intimately close to Castiel's.

"Sorry, Cas," he whispers, voice raw and shaky. His hands slide slowly, reluctantly away until they're no longer touching, just sharing the same, close space. "You just smell nice, is all."

Castiel's head cants to the side, his ocean blue eyes curious and calculating. After a moment, one corner of his mouth twitches into something close to a smile. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam fights the urge to grin and shakes his head. Suddenly Tacoma doesn't feel so cold and empty anymore.


End file.
